Last updated: May 22. 2014 1:17PM - 991 Views
Dawn Reed Times Columnist



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I was furious! I tore out of the car like a man on fire. I wanted to scream! Without saying a word, I walked as fast as I could through the garage and into the house. I marched down the hall and slammed the bedroom door. I went into the bathroom and closed that door, too. The only place left was my closet.


Matthew 6:6 (NIV) says: “But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen.” The King James’ Version says “go into your closet”. And that’s just where I was headed!


I pushed my way in and mashed the door shut. I needed to pray and fast! It took a few minutes for me to move enough shoes and stuff to have room to get in the floor. (My beloved says it doesn’t honor the Lord. So far that hasn’t motivated me to straighten it up, but I always leave the door open.)


I went straight to my Father and told Him my beef. I poured out my heart about how right I was and that my feelings had been hurt. I needed His help to not say anything I was thinking (i.e. hateful, mean stuff). I asked Him to calm my racing heart (before it exploded) and give me peace.


Soon I heard footsteps down the hall. My other half had noticed that I was nowhere to be found. When he saw the closed bedroom door, he knew where to look. He opened the door. I was not in the room. He saw the closed bathroom door. When he opened it…no me. That’s when he saw something very suspicious: my closet door was closed. Bingo!


He slowly turned the handle to open the door but it wouldn’t budge. He pushed and pushed to get it open just a smidge. I was on my stomach and my legs were up against the door. Holding the door he grunted, “What are you doing?”


“Praying,” I said into the carpet.


What’s to be said after that? The door gently closed. I heard steps across the bathroom floor and another door close. Finally I heard the bedroom door close. Then…total silence.


After several minutes of telling God my side of everything that had happened, I felt much better. I got up and decided to straighten my closet while I was in there.


As I live and breathe, I can’t remember what made me so mad. I do remember that whatever it was, it wasn’t my fault.


At this very moment, my closet door is open and it’s a mess. It still does not honor the Lord, but you can bet your bottom dollar that there’s enough room in the floor for me to get down and have a conference with the Lord!


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